Flowers Not Included
by Sylvie Orp
Summary: Follow-up from 'Man without a past' - Bodie's got a horticultural problem


I can't stand hospitals myself. Can you? The smells, the clatter, the despair. God knows I've spent enough time at Doyle's hospital bed over the years to get used to it, but I haven't yet. And here I am again. Yup, at Doyle's bed. How he gets injured so often considering how brilliant he is in the field, I don't know. (Don't tell him that – about the 'brilliant', I mean.) At least hope and anxiety aren't doing the tango this time. Ray's got a few broken ribs – so nothing life-threatening – but he's making a meal of it since he's well enough to chat up the buxom State-registered lovelies who tuck him in at night and take his temperature. I had the pleasure of telling him that he'll be discharged in a couple of days, so he'll have to take his own bed-baths – I'm not scrubbing his back.

I strolled in with a big bunch of flowers. The idiot thought they were for him, and he looked disappointed when I said no. I do wonder about him sometimes! The flowers were for Claire down the corridor, of course. She's my latest squeeze. Yeah, I'm still using the present tense. Claire wanted to ditch me, as I'm too dangerous to know. I suppose it's exciting to date a handsome bugger like me, with my air of mystery – I told her I was a Civil Servant with emergency duties thrown in (to explain my sudden absences) – but once the bombs start flying and reality sets in, I don't suppose it's that exciting any more for civilians. It's terrifying and dangerous. I don't blame her for backing out, but I thought I'd get round her with the flowers. Big mistake. Why are blokes so thick? I just didn't get it. After seeing Doyle (surrounded by aforementioned lovelies of course) I wandered into Claire's side ward in the burns' unit with my best smile ready to sweep her off her feet again. She took one brief look at me, and an even longer look at the flowers. What little I could see of her bandaged face showed her eyes getting wider and her mouth agape – not a good look. If she could have got out of bed, I think she would either have clawed through the brickwork or thrown herself out of the window.

"What's up?" I needed a bit of guidance here. Anger at my turning up so soon I could have understood; or a bright smile at my unexpected return after her brush-off would have been welcome. But naked fear was a puzzle I couldn't solve.

"Take them away!" she croaked. If she hadn't been suffering from smoke inhalation she would have been screaming. I still wasn't getting it. "After the bombing do you really think I'd want to see another bunch of flowers again!" She sounded on the verge of hysteria.

Now, too late, I understood. When you're in the middle of a lovely meal with scintillating company and someone presents you with an unexpected bouquet that, literally, blows up in your face, I guess (now) that you would be a bit averse to them.

A nurse came in, alerted by Claire's monitors that were going into hyperdrive. The nurse glared at me as though it was my fault – which I guess it was - so I left, unmanned by this angry sisterhood. But what to do with the bloody flowers? I felt such a prat wandering around the corridors with them – and Doyle wasn't going to have 'em. I'd never hear the end of it. I ambled back to the burns' unit and gave them to the Sister in charge in the end, saying that I'd forgotten my girlfriend had hay fever. Well, I wouldn't be an ace agent if I can't invent a bit. The Sister thanked me and our hands brushed as I handed them over. My little pinky briefly sought out her ring finger – no ring. I smiled my devastating smile. She countered with a devastating one of her own.

"That's very kind of you, Mr…?"

I wasn't sure if she was referring to my smile or the bloody flowers. "Bodie. Just Bodie. And, yes, well, I do my best…"

I put on my little boy look which usually has the ladies' hearts doing handstands, but then I realised that I'd mentioned the 'girlfriend' word so had to backtrack but, too late, the moment went and Sister retreated with the flowers. I watched her bouncy buttocks recede - and then thought of Doyle and his beehive of NHS lovelies…


End file.
